


Kleptomaniacs Don't Make Good Friends

by Aladin_Sane



Category: X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom
Genre: Charles is trying to help, Logan hates social interaction, M/M, Peter is a Little Shit, Support Group
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-10
Updated: 2015-05-10
Packaged: 2018-03-29 23:34:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3914815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aladin_Sane/pseuds/Aladin_Sane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles talks Logan into going to a support group because of his inability to adequately communicate with other people. Logan never agreed to sitting next to the hyperactive kleptomaniac, Peter, who makes the meetings living hell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kleptomaniacs Don't Make Good Friends

**Author's Note:**

> From alice-moving-under-skies “We go to the same support group; I have social anxiety and you’re a kleptomaniac who sorta stole my heart”

When Charles said “Social Anxiety” Logan couldn’t believe it. It wasn’t that he had social anxiety, it was just that he always got nervous talking to people and always said the wrong thing and he did whatever he could to avoid social interaction. And maybe Charles is the only person he can talk to without panicking a bit on the inside. 

Okay. Maybe he has social anxiety. But the support group idea was just ridiculous! Logan sitting in a circle with a bunch of other people and talking about his feelings was never going to help. How could it possibly? It was the opposite of what he wanted to be doing every other week on wednesday nights! Not that he really had plans, but still. 

“I’m not going, Chuck,” Logan says determinedly. 

“Just go once. you don’t even have to say anything. If you really hate it, we can try something else.” Logan looks unconvinced and still unsure. “They serve dinner every meeting and it’s all you can eat.”

This sparks Logan’s attention. “Will there be alcohol?” he asks, looking up at Charles. 

“They don’t serve it, but I’ll get you some if it’ll convince you,” Charles says with a girn. 

“I’ll give it a shot,” Logan says. 

********

The next wednesday, Logan shows up early to the meeting and heads right to the buffet table that’s been set up. So, Charles exaggerated. It isn’t dinner as much as it is various snacks, desserts and pastas, but food is food and Logan’s piling as much as he can on his paper plate. When it’s time to begin, he sits himself down next to an empty chair around the table. They start with the usual introductions, going around the circle. 

About halfway around, there’s a scuffle in the hallway with a hissed argument. The group falls silent to eavesdrop, but they don’t half to. The door to the meeting room swings open and a teenage boy gets shoved in by a girl the same age as him. 

“Wanda, don’t-”

Before he can continue, the girl cuts him off by shutting the door in his face. He runs a hand through his silver hair and adjusts his silver leather jacket over his Pink Floyd teacher before turning to the group here. He blushes softly before scrambling to take the empty seat next to Logan. 

“Sorry, please continue,” he says, waving his hand and pulling his chair closer to the table. 

Before he can collect his thoughts, it’s Logan’s turn. “Um, I’m Logan. I don’t like social activities,” he says shortly. He feels like he should say more, but he doesn’t really know what to say or want to. 

Everybody trains their eyes on the silver-haired kid who’s fidgeting hyperactively. “Huh? Uh, Peter. I steal stuff. Look, I don’t really want to be here, do you mind if I just-” 

“Anyways! Peter, feel free to help yourself to the food. Who wants to start us off?” The counselor interrupts quickly and moves the meeting along. 

Logan instantly hates Peter. The kid won’t sit still, won’t stop drumming his hands on the table or humming quietly. He keeps getting up for food and then eating it like it’s trying to run away. Every time Logan thinks the kid’s calmed down, thinks he’s finally able to focus, Peter sighs and does something just loud enough for Logan to hear. 

Instead of paying attention, he finds himself glaring at the kid next to him the entire time. When it’s over, he bolts out, excited to be free from the teen. What he wasn’t prepared for was the kid to hurry to catch up with him. “Hey, Logan, right? Why are you so mad at me? What’d I do? C’mon, talk to me! Are you a mutant? Because I found this card in your wallet for Xavier’s school and everybody knows that’s for mutants. Do you teach there? Or are you an old student? Hey-”

Logan grabs the kid by the shoulders of his jacket and shove him up against a wall. “Shut up. You need to stop talking.You’re giving me a headache.” Then Logan realizes what was said. “How’d you get that card from my wallet?” he asks intimidatingly. 

Peter’s eyes widen a bit at Logan’s growls, but he covers it with a smug grin. “I steal stuff. Didn’t you pay attention during the meeting?” He holds up the card arrogantly. 

“Logan, what are you doing? I thought you were going to learn how to interact instead of beating up people who don’t agree with.” Charles gives him a pointed look, rolling up in his wheelchair. 

Peter flashes a mischievous grin at Logan before going limp in his grip. “Oh, please, sir! I’m so sorry I ate the last sugar cookie, if I’d known I wouldn’t have done it!” he cries out, weakly fighting against the older man. 

Logan drops him and turns to Charles. “He’s being an asshat, I was not beating him up for that. He stole my wallet, I was just trying to intimidate him.” He turns to the kid to get a confirmation, but the teen’s vanished into thin air. 

Charles just sighs and gives Logan a warm smile. “Logan, I’m a mind-reader. You think I didn’t know? What’d you think of the meeting?” 

“It was horrible. I’m never going back,” Logan grumbles. 

When he gets back to his room at Charles’ mansion, he starts emptying his pockets into a bowl on his dresser. “Now, where is… my… wallet?” he mumbles, checking all of his pockets. 

“No.” He grumbles, frantically checking at rechecking. He knows he had it at the meeting, otherwise the kid wouldn’t have been able to… “Fucking kid!” he hisses. There’s no way he can find the kid, he doesn’t even know his last name. He’ll have to go back to that ridiculous meeting.


End file.
